


The beauty that she brings

by Gruoch



Series: In the merry month of June [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Drug Use, F/M, Families of Choice, Father-Son Emotional Disaster Duo, Future Fic, Gen, Gritty Domestic Bliss, Occupational Hazards, and his big mouth and bigger heart, baby fever, canon has no power here, family man tony stark, iron(grand)dad, old age new lease on life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 05:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20326195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gruoch/pseuds/Gruoch
Summary: Peter puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder and leans in close, his expression wide-eyed and solemn. “Can you keep a secret?”“Honestly?” Tony makes a face. “No, I can’t. I really struggle with impulse control and running my mouth when I shouldn’t.”***or, old man builds family, lives happily ever after





	The beauty that she brings

“Dad. Dad. Dad!”

Tony snorts himself awake. He blinks into the darkness, groggy and disoriented. “What? What’s that? Are the bots burning the building down?”

“Dad, _get up,_” Morgan says, tugging at his arm. “Peter’s in the kitchen dying.”

“Oh, I was wondering when he’d turn up again,” Tony says, hauling himself out of the bed. “I was just thinking it’s been a long time since I’ve had to scrub blood out of the rugs.”

“Just hurry up. He’s acting really weird, like he’s on drugs or something.”

“Drugs? That kid?” Tony frowns, shuffling down the hall behind Morgan. “I can’t even get him to smoke a little leaf with me.”

“Can you _please_ be serious?” Morgan says, pulling at his hand to hurry him along.

“I am being serious. Humor is how I cope with stressful situations, that’s all. Give me a break,” Tony says as they round the corner and step into the kitchen.

Peter is sitting on the floor near the pantry, his mask rolled up over his nose, clearly agitated as he struggles to open a jar of peanut butter.

“Hey, kid,” Tony greets, slipping his glasses out of his pocket and onto his nose, lightly tapping the frame. “FRI, be a darling and give me the rundown.”

Tony goes over and squats down next to Peter, tugging his mask off the rest of the way, wincing as he examines the bruising around Peter’s eye and the blood caked around his mouth and nose. “Hey, bud, what’s happening?”

“I’m trying to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” Peter explains, “but you put the jelly way up on the top shelf, and I can’t reach it ‘cause I can’t stand up anymore.”

“Yeah, your hip is dislocated,” Tony replies, reading through the diagnostic data FRIDAY has scrolling across the lenses of his glasses. 

“What, are you just—looking at people’s bones now, huh?” Peter slurs. “I don’t want you looking at my bones inside my body. I didn’t consent to that.”

“Yeah, you did,” Tony says, leaning forward and pulling Peter’s eyelids up to look at his pupils. “You signed the consent forms when you came in. Don’t you remember?”

“I—no,” Peter says, blinking with owlish confusion. “Did I?”

“Yeah. You signed right when you walked it, and one of things you consented to was letting me look at your bones. It was right there if you had read it.”

“Oh. I should—I should have read it,” Peter mumbles, turning his attention back to fumbling with the jar of peanut butter.

“Yeah, life lesson, kid—always read the consent forms,” Tony says. “So, are you gonna tell me what happened?”

“Yeah. Yes. I was minding my own business, swinging around, enjoying a nice quiet night, and then I go to stop this dude breaking into a bodega, and he sprayed me in the face with something,” Peter says, still struggling with the peanut butter jar. “And after that, things got...weird. Yeah. Very weird, very spooky. These, uh. These things were chasing me. And I fell off a building? I think. Or...a car hit me. Or I fell, and _then_ a car hit me. Yeah. That’s it. And then I had this funny feeling, like—I should really go home. So I came here.”

He holds the jar up to Tony, his eyes imploring. “Please. I can’t open it.”

Tony takes it from him. “You have super sticky grip and super strength, and you can’t open this jar? Hm. I’m a little concerned, Petey. But maybe we should figure out what’s going on before you eat anything, anyway.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea, that’s...hey.” Peter puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder and leans in close, his expression wide-eyed and solemn. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Honestly?” Tony makes a face. “No, I can’t. I really struggle with impulse control and running my mouth when I shouldn’t.”

Peter ignores Tony’s answer, leaning in even closer. “MJ…and I…” he starts slowly.

“Uh-huh,” Tony says, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“MJ…and I…” Peter starts again, and then stops, sucking in a deep breath. “MJ…and I…”

Tony sighs. “Just spit it out, kid.”

“We’re having...a baby!” Peter blurts out finally, looking completely stunned by the pronouncement, as if he, too, is hearing it for the very first time.

Tony says nothing for a very long moment. He looks at Peter, blinking hard, and then at Morgan.

“Did you just hear that, too?” he asks her. “Am I experiencing a contact high? I didn’t just hallucinate that, right? He said he’s having a baby?”

“He did,” Morgan confirms, looking enormously amused by the spectacle unfolding before her.

Tony sits down hard on the floor. He looks back at Peter. “Are you—_you’re_ not hallucinating right now, are you?”

Peter shakes his head, his eyes still as wide and round as moons. “No. I mean, yes, I think am. I am seeing..._very_ strange things. But not about this. No, the baby is…” he holds up a hand, making a circle with his thumb and index finger. “This big now. It’s due in January.”

Before Tony can say anything else to that, Pepper comes around the corner into the kitchen, tying the sash of her robe around her waist.

“What’s happened?” she asks, frowning at the three of them.

Tony looks up at her, smiling and blinking back tears. He jerks a thumb at Peter. “The kid’s out of his mind on drugs or is seriously brain damaged or something,” he says. “But that doesn’t matter, ‘cause, Pep, honey—I’m getting a baby.”

“What?” Pepper asks, still frowning as she turns towards Morgan.

“Pete knocked MJ up,” Morgan explains.

“Oh my god, I did!” Peter says, clutching at his hair. “It was an accident, I swear. We went to Ned’s wedding in Connecticut, remember? And we were drinking a lot at the reception, and MJ was wearing that one dress, you know—the red one with the polka dots, I _love_ that dress, and afterward we went back to the hotel and—”

“Alright, we don’t need to hear the graphic details, buddy,” Tony says, trying to calm him down. “We all know how it works. And it’s fine. It’s—shit, it’s wonderful, Pete."

“Noooo. No, no—this is—_terrible,_” Peter gasps out. “I can be a...be a...”

“Father,” Tony says, beaming.

“Yes! No! God, look at me! I’ve had three different jobs in the last six months. I haven’t slept in over a decade. I am constantly two seconds away from dying,” Peter says desperately. He looks down at himself. “I am—bleeding all over your floor, and I keep seeing a small white dog over there by the fridge.” He looks back up at Tony, his expression pleading. “Did you get a small white dog?”

“Well. No,” Tony says gently. “No dogs.”

“Oh no,” Peter moans, crumpling sideways and curling into a ball. “That’s not good. I’ve lost touch with reality. I can’t raise a child like this.”

“Pete, buddy, this isn’t permanent,” Tony soothes, then considers for a moment. “Probably not, at least. We’ll need to get some blood samples and run some tests before we can say anything with certainty—”

“Dad, stop. You’re freaking him out even more,” Morgan says. “That’s not how you help someone having a bad trip.”

“What do you know about that, huh?” Tony asks her. “I went to MIT in the late eighties. I’m like a bad trip expert.”

“What if—what if—what if I passed on something weird, like some mutation?” Peter asks from within his little ball. “Like, the baby comes out with eight legs or something—I mean, I don’t know what’s going on with my...you know...”

“Your baby batter,” Tony supplies.

“Dad, _ugh!_” Morgan screeches. “You are so gross.”

“My _chromosomes,_” Peter says delicately.

“I don’t think you should worry about, bud,” Tony reassures him. “Eight legs—that’s not so bad. Now, if he has eight eyes or pincers or something—”

“Oh god!” Peter says, clutching at his hair again and looking close to tears.

“Tony, enough,” Pepper says. She kneels down and gently tugs Peter out of his curled up knot, then wraps him up in a hug. “I know it’s scary and overwhelming, sweetheart, but everything will be fine. And if it’s not, we’ll cross that bridge together. We’ll always be right here to help, no matter what.”

“Yeah, yeah—that’s good, that’s...whoa,” Peter mumbles as he clings to Pepper, his eyes wandering up to look at something above their heads. “Are you guys seeing this? Whoaaa. That’s—woooow.”

“FRIDAY, you better be recording all of this,” Tony says.

“_Tony,_” Pepper chides again.

“For scientific observation,” Tony clarifies, but he wilts under Pepper’s continued glare. He stands up and grabs Peter’s arm, helping him up off the floor.

“Alright, kid. Fun time’s over. Let me have a couple vials of your blood and pop that hip back into the socket for you, and then you better go sleep this thing off. Pepper will give Michelle a call.”

“That’s so nice. You guys are always so nice,” Peter says, limping along beside Tony. “I love you guys. I—_love_—you guys. You, and Pepper, and Morgan, and that little white dog. Wow. Can you die from loving people too much? Because this is—this is a _lot._”

Tony pats his back. “We love you, too, buddy. You’ve given me the best news I’ve had in years.”

“Can I tell you one more thing?” Peter asks, suddenly solemn again. “A bad thing.”

“You can tell me anything, kid. Literally nothing could ruin the emotional high I’m on right now.”

“Okay.” Peter takes a deep breath. “I threw up in your bathtub after having a meatball sub for dinner. I tried to clean it up, but I just made it worse. Sorry.”

“_God,_ I’ve missed your late night visits,” Tony sighs happily, pulling Peter closer against his side.

***

A few days later, Tony heads over to May’s apartment with a bottle of his best champagne and a bag of premium indica, for a little impromptu celebration.

“I brought the really good stuff this time,” he calls out to May, who’s in her bedroom changing out of her work clothes. “Top shelf cannabis. I’m working directly with a grower now—my little passion project. We’re cultivating some new strains, mostly with medical applications in mind, but this beauty was grown purely with your pleasure and relaxation in mind. Smokes smooth and pretty, but it’ll knock you right on your ass. I’m gonna name it after you.”

“Very funny,” May says, coming into the living room and shaking out her hair.

Tony offers her the vaporizer as she sits down on the sofa beside him. “Here you go, grandma. Take it for a ride.”

May shoots a glare at him as she takes the proffered vaporizer. “Is that a comment on the fact that I’m letting my grays grow out? Are you calling me old?”

“I didn’t call you old, I called you grandma,” Tony corrects. “If I called you old, that would mean that I’m old, too, and I’m way too vain to ever admit that. What, are you more of a memaw? A mimi? I like that. I’m thinking I’m going to be papa. Mimi and papa—that sounds nice together.”

May stares at him blankly. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, shit,” Tony says. “Nothing.” He holds up the bag of marijuana. “This weed must be laced with something. Don’t listen to my insane rambling.”

“Tony. What. Are. You. Talking. About.” May demands, punctuating each word with a sharp-knuckled punch to Tony’s upper arm.

“Christ, May—this is elder abuse,” Tony says, trying to fend her off. “I’ll report you.”

May hits him again, harder. “_Tony!_”

“Okay! Alright—just—stop, Jesus. You’re vicious,” Tony says, rubbing his sore arm. “Peter and Michelle are having a baby. Congratulations—you’re gonna be a grandmother. I just assumed he’d already told you, is all.”

May stares at him again. “Are you fucking with me right now?”

“I wish I was, because I sense that I’ve just pissed off multiple people with this blunder. But it’s all true—the baby’s due in early January.”

May looks at him for a moment longer, and then bursts into tears. 

“Oh my god! My baby’s having a baby! And he told your dumb old ass before me?” she cries, smacking at Tony’s arm again for good measure.

“I don’t think he intended to tell me first, if it makes you feel better,” Tony says, flinching away. “He was high as a kite at the time on an _extremely_ potent dose of an aerosolized mescaline derivative some loon sprayed in his face. It just sort of came out.”

This information does not make May feel better.

“Someone drugged my baby with mescaline?” she wails.

“The baby is fine. The baby is bouncing,” Tony assures her. “The baby tripped balls for about five hours straight, but I’d say he experienced intense euphoria for about ninety-percent of that time, so it was great, really. Once he came down, he said it was actually a profoundly moving spiritual experience.”

This does not comfort May, either. She is not comforted until Tony calls Peter to sheepishly explain the situation, and Peter and Michelle make the trek out to her apartment to tell her the news again in person.

“Sorry,” Peter tells her, while May holds him in a vice-like grip around the neck and sobs into his shoulder. “We had this whole surprise reveal planned out for you, with dinner and cake and everything, but someone—“ he shoots a glare at Tony over the top of his aunt’s head—“doesn’t know how to keep their big mouth shut.”

“In my defense, I warned you that I can’t keep a secret, and you still told me,” Tony says. “So this is your fault really.”

“I was _drugged._”

“That’s not my fault, either.”

“It’s fine,” Michelle says, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “This feels so typical for this family. The mess is part of the charm.”

“The mother-to-be has absolved me,” Tony says. “Her opinion is the only one that matters, so no one is allowed to be mad at me anymore.”

“Shut up,” May says, wiping the tears from her cheeks and turning to hug Michelle. “Let me enjoy this moment without your running commentary.”

“Shut up?” Tony replies, indignant. “Shut up? Are you kidding? I’m never going to be able to stop talking about this.”

***

“Nneka, darling, I know we’ve had our differences over the years, but you’re gonna be really proud of me today,” Tony tells his extremely patient and wonderfully good-humored physical therapist when she comes to his house for his appointment.

“_Disagreements,_” she replies, gently extending his leg. “Is that what you call it when I provide you with a treatment plan based on my years of medical training and experience, and you fail to comply? And then you complain to your wife that you are not improving, or that the plan is too hard and takes too long, even though I have made it so easy and so short that even a toddler could perform it without difficulty?”

“I’m a changed man, Nneka. Better late than never, right?”

“Ah. I see. So, you are going to tell me that you’ve done all your exercises since our last appointment, right?”

“Bingo. Didn’t miss one.”

“And you didn't utter a single word of complaint to your beloved wife?”

“Not one. She’ll confirm it if you ask her.”

“I believe you, Mr. Stark,” Nneka says. “You’re always very honest with me. _Too_ honest, sometimes. And I am proud. You have to tell me what inspired this miraculous turn around.”

“I was really hoping that you would ask,” Tony says, leaning over to grab an envelope off of the side table. He pulls out a long roll of photos and hands it to her. “What do you think of that?”

Nneka examines the roll of photos. “I think this is a sonogram of a sixteen-week-old fetus.”

“That’s the newest addition to the family,” Tony explains, tapping the photos. “That’s Pete and Michelle’s baby girl. She doesn’t look like much now, but she’ll be the queen bee in a few years. The women rule this family. We’re very matriarchal.”

“A wise way to run a family,” Nneka says, smiling as she hands the photo roll back. “Congratulations. And since you’re taking my advice now—hire the new parents a night nurse for the first few months. That poor boy already looks like he never sleeps.”

“Yeah, the kid’s got a really stressful job,” Tony agrees, running a hand over his graying goatee thoughtfully. “That’s not a bad idea. But you see what I’m working for now, right? We gotta kick it up a notch. I need to be able to keep up with that little squirt for at least another decade. You think I should get the other hip replaced? Because the kid and I have been tinkering with this new ceramic coating for implants that mimics natural minerals found in bone, so they bond better—real cutting-edge science, it has all kinds of potential for other organ transplants. Another decade and you’re gonna see 3-D printed bionic organs that will work even better than the ones you came into the world with. Pete’s got some big ideas—he’s a real genius when it comes to this finicky biochemical technologies stuff. I’m always happy to be his guinea pig.”

“You know I’m always interested to hear about your excursions into transhumanism,” Nneka says with another smile. “But I wonder—how many times do you plan on cheating death?”

“Well, as many times as I can, I guess. You can’t blame a guy for trying,” Tony says. “I’ve still got a lot to live for.”

***

“Is there a reason why there are a bunch of strange men in our bedroom?” Pepper asks one chilly October morning as she sets two enormous grocery bags down on the kitchen island.

“Is that my Halloween candy?” Tony asks, tugging down a corner of one of the bags to peek inside. “You got the full-size bars, right? I don’t want to disappoint the kids.”

“Yes, I got the full-sized candy bars. Your sterling reputation among the neighborhood children remains intact for another year,” Pepper says patiently. “Now—what’s going on? What are you doing to our home?”

“Oh, I’m just having them remodel one of the closets,” Tony says, sorting through the candy. “Turning it into a nursery. I’ve got another crew at the lake house doing the same. You know, so the baby has somewhere to sleep. She’ll be right off the bedroom—we can nap together in the afternoon. I’m gonna watch her while the kids are at work.”

Pepper raises her eyebrows. “You are?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m not doing anything else these days. Morgan’s at school all day and I’m just here puttering around the house by myself, so.”

“Alright, honey,” Pepper says, an odd expression on her face.

Tony looks up from the candy, squinting at her. “What’s that? You’re giving me a look right now.”

“Nothing,” Pepper says, shaking her head and smiling. “I’m just...reminiscing. Thinking about how lucky I am, that we made it this far.”

“Ah, so it’s a look of love,” Tony says, coming around the island to kiss her. “Your looks of love and your looks of total disappointment are extremely similar. I have a hard time telling them apart, even after all these years together.”

“Mm, that explains so much,” Pepper says with a smile, kissing him again.

“We are lucky,” Tony murmurs against her mouth. “What do you say we get luckier?”

“Are you forgetting our bedroom is full of workmen?”

“There’s a perfectly good guest room on the opposite side of the apartment,” Tony points out, putting his arms around her waist. “Or the laundry room, or the garage—where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I’m trying to age with grace and dignity. It’s hard, with you around.”

“Oh, but it’s working,” Tony says, nosing along the fine line of her neck. “You get more gorgeous with every gray hair. Every laugh line makes me crazier for you.”

“That’s all very flattering, but I have a video conference in fifteen minutes with our clients in Germany,” Pepper says, kissing him fondly once more before extracting herself from his embrace. 

“Alright, boss, alright,” Tony says, waving her away. “But I’m getting my other hip replaced this spring. The appointment is set. We’re really gonna rock the boat once I get that done.”

“I’m looking forward to it, honey. I look forward to every moment we have together,” Pepper says, flashing him another sly smile on her way out.

***

“JP is just about the size of this squash now,” Tony says, holding up the butternut squash he’s getting ready to dice in preparation for Thanksgiving dinner that evening at the lake house.

“JP?” Morgan asks, not looking up from her phone. Tony has made her get up a whole hour earlier than usual while she’s on her school vacation to help him in the kitchen, and she is only very grudgingly giving him her attention.

“Yeah, Jones-Parker. That’s what I’m calling the baby until Pete and Michelle decide on a name.”

“Why do keep comparing the baby to food? Every time you’re in the kitchen you’re like, the baby is a kiwi, now the baby’s a banana, oh, hey, you’re having a baked potato for lunch? That’s great, because now I can announce that this week the baby’s a potato.”

“It’s a good visual reference, you little shit,” Tony replies, cutting up the squash.

“It’s weird. You’re weird. You’re so baby crazy these days.”

“You’re just jealous because you’re not the baby of the family anymore. JP has usurped your position. Now get over here and peel these potatoes, or I’ll feed your phone to the alpacas.”

“Okay, okay,” Morgan huffs, sliding off her stool and coming over to stand beside him. 

“You know, you used to love helping me in the kitchen when you were little,” Tony tells her, scooping the diced squash into a roasting pan.

“I still love spending time with you, dad,” Morgan replies, diligently peeling a potato. “I just love sleep a lot more. That’s all.”

“My guardian angel, doing the hard work of keeping me humble,” Tony says, kissing the top of her head. “You’ll always be my baby, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Morgan says as she picks up another potato, managing to sound both pleased and terribly resigned at the same time.

May and Michelle arrive at the lake house with Happy early in the evening, right as the turkey is coming out of the oven.

“Yes, I’m huge,” Michelle says with a brittle smile as Tony approaches her for a hug.

“I was going to say that you’re beautiful,” Tony replies, kissing her cheek. “Where’s Peter?”

“Held up,” May says, handing over an only very slightly burnt pie to Pepper. “Of course. Can you remember an occasion where he’s actually made it to a holiday dinner on time?”

“God almighty,” Tony complains. “I made that pineapple corn bread dressing he likes. No one else even touches it.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s disgusting,” Morgan says. “Corn and pineapple? That doesn’t make sense.”

Tony pinches her cheek. “Peter thinks it’s a good combo.”

“I’ve seen Peter eat pizza out of the trash,” Morgan says, swatting his hand away. “I don’t trust his opinion on food.”

“We could wait a little while,” Pepper suggests.

“No. The baby is starving. The baby has been desperately craving mashed potatoes and other salty carbs,” Michelle says. “Peter will be fine. He’d want me to feed his baby.”

“The infant queen has spoken,” Tony says, ushering everyone into the dining room. “Let the dinner commence.”

Peter finally arrives two hours after the dinner ends, hair still mussed from wearing the mask and two-days worth of stubble darkening his jaw, greeting everyone with his usual good-natured enthusiasm despite the fact that he looks like he’s riding right on the edge of total exhaustive collapse.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Peter says as he makes the rounds hugging everyone. “Who robs a bank on Thanksgiving? Jeez. Give me a break.”

“Your shirt’s on backwards,” Tony tells him when Peter makes his way over to the loveseat where Tony had been napping his heavy meal off. “And your eyes look like two cigarette burns in a blanket. You look like a week-old corpse.”

“Good to see you, too,” Peter replies, hugging him a little harder than necessary.

“You need to sleep more,” Tony insists. “And you need to eat. You look so skinny these days.”

“Oh my god, do you hear yourself?” Peter asks, throwing himself face-first into the sofa opposite Tony. “I’ve been working a lot of overtime lately, that’s all. Having a baby is _insanely_ expensive.”

“You need to take better care of yourself. Seriously. There are people depending on you now.”

“Yes, mother dearest.”

“I’ll make you a plate,” Tony offers. “We have tons of leftovers.”

“No, don’t get up. I’ll go eat in a minute. I just need to lie down for a sec,” Peter mumbles, turning his head and pressing his face into the back of the couch, immediately falling asleep.

Tony shakes his head, settling back and closing his eyes again, drifting in and out for a bit to the slow, steady rhythm of Peter’s breathing, until he’s roused once more by Michelle slipping into the room.

He holds an arm out to her, and she comes over, easing herself down into the space beside him. He takes her hand in his, twining their fingers together. He nods his head towards Peter, still sprawled out asleep on the sofa. 

“He used to sleep like that when he’d come over to my place in the city after school when he was a little kid. Face-down and drooling on the sofa. And I’d sit in the room with him and look at him and think, god, what did I get myself into,” Tony tells her. “I was a mess, then—a bigger mess. I wasn’t ready for that amount of responsibility. But it all turned out fine. When you really love something, you work your ass off for it.”

“You do,” she agrees.

Tony squeezes her hand gently. “How’s he holding up?”

“He’s stressed—really, really stressed. And worried, but that’s just how is he. He’ll be fine once the baby is here. I know he’s going to be a good dad.” Michelle looks over at Tony, smiling almost shyly. “He’s had some really good role models.”

Tony returns her smile, deeply pleased. “And what about you?”

“You know, I feel pretty good, actually,” Michelle says, her expression contemplative. “I don’t worry. It was a little scary at first, just because it was so...well, unplanned. But now...when I was growing up, my parents were either never around or they fought all the time—with each other, with me. I couldn’t wait to get out of the house, just get away, leave it behind and never look back. And Peter—he’s the complete opposite of all of that. This family...it’s weird and messy and sometimes seriously crazy, but it’s so full of love. So I don’t worry. This is exactly the kind of home I wanted so bad when I was a little girl—I’m just really happy my child is gonna get to grow up with that.”

Tony brings her hand up and kisses the back of her fingers. “Well, you know she’s already my favorite. I don’t try to pretend I’m not biased. She’s going to be spoiled rotten, and I won’t apologize for it.”

“That’s alright,” Michelle says, looking amused. “I think she can handle a little spoiling.”

She looks over at Peter, her amusement turning into a kind of wry affection. “I guess I should wake him up and send him to bed. He looks done for the night.”

“Yeah, I suppose I should head that way, too,” Tony says, standing and then helping her back up to her feet. 

“You do really look beautiful,” he adds. “Hell of a sight better than your dumb husband.”

“Thank you,” Michelle says with a little laugh, rubbing the round curve of her belly and taking a deep breath. “Not much longer to go now. I just hope we’re ready.”

“You will be,” Tony assures her. “You never think you’re ready, and then you are.”

***

Tony comes back downstairs sometime around midnight to find the kitchen light on and Peter sitting alone at the island, a plate of Thanksgiving leftovers set on the countertop in front of him. A plain white envelope, thick with folded papers tucked inside, sits next to the plate.

Peter looks up as Tony comes in. “Hey, sorry. I hope I didn’t wake you up. I was trying to be quiet.”

Tony waves a hand, coming over to sit on the stool next to Peter. “Nah. I never sleep anymore. Part of getting older.”

“You never slept when you were younger, either,” Peter points out.

“Yeah, but back then I didn’t sleep because I was busy feverishly working on some project I was convinced was gonna save the world,” Tony says, stealing a cranberry off Peter’s plate. “I still do that, but now I’m also getting up to pee a hundred times a night, or I’m rolling around in bed because years of superhero antics have turned all of my joints into little personal torture devices.”

“Wow, so much to look forward to.”

“Well, there’s a lot of perks to getting older, too. Especially for guys in our line of work—just being around and breathing at my age after all the shit I went through is a real big plus in itself. You can’t take that for granted.”

Peter lets out a little huff of laughter, nodding his head. Then he clears his throat, and slides the envelope over to Tony. “Yeah, speaking of which...I, uh. I made a last will and testament. Had it notarized last week and everything, so it’s good to go, you know, if...I don’t really have any assets or anything, but...yeah. There’s some stuff in there about, uh, about funeral arrangements and whatever, and a letter I wrote for MJ, and one for May, and for the baby, for when she’s a little older—you know, in case I’m not—just in case. I got a life insurance policy, too. MJ has all the paperwork and the policy number and stuff, but I also put a copy in there. I don’t know—she might need help dealing with the insurance company or something. I’m not exactly sure how they’d handle masked vigilantism-related claims. So. If you could just hold onto all of that for me, and maybe we never talk about it again, that would be great.”

“Sure,” Tony says, taking the envelope and slipping it into the pocket of his robe. “Nothing wrong with having a little peace of mind.”

“Yeah,” Peter agrees, sniffing. “It’s, uh...it’s really more knowing that if anything happened to me, you’d be around to take care of them. So. Thanks for that.”

“Of course, kid,” Tony says, reaching over and gently squeezing Peter’s arm. “I’d do anything for them. For you.”

Peter nods and then sits still for a moment, blinking hard at his plate, before clearing his throat again and continuing in a brighter way. “Anyway. We finally picked a name.”

Tony sits up straighter, a smile spreading across his face. “You did?”

“Yeah, it’s—”

“Hold up,” Tony stops him. “If you’re planning on making some big announcement yourself, or you want to wait till after the baby’s born to let everyone know the name, you better not tell me. I’ll fuck it up and let it slip within forty-eight hours, guaranteed.”

Peter snorts. “No, it’s fine. You can tell people—I know you’ll get a lot of joy out of that.”

“You’re damn right I will. What is it?”

“Well, we wanted to name her after May, so we’re gonna call her June.”

“June after May,” Tony says, smiling. “Cute.”

“Yeah. June Benjamin Jones.”

“Junie B. Jones,” Tony tries it out. “Oh, I like that. Rolls right off the tongue. That’s lovely. Really lovely.”

He stands up and cups Peter’s face in his hands. “You know I gotta love on you now,” he says, bending to plant a kiss on both of Peter’s cheeks before tightly embracing him. “I’m getting disgustingly sentimental in my old age, and you’ve made me very happy. Very happy and very proud.”

“You’ve always been disgustingly sentimental,” Peter replies, hugging him back. “You just don’t bother trying to hide it anymore.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Tony agrees, swaying him gently back and forth. “That’s another perk of getting old. You stop giving a shit about what other people think. You just get to _be._”

***

It’s around nine at night on New Year’s Eve when Tony gets the call.

Pepper and Morgan are still upstate enjoying the last few days of their Christmas vacation, but he’s returned to the city alone a little earlier, tugged back by some sense that someone should be around, just in case, and it turns out that his instincts are still sharp.

He’s tinkering in the penthouse’s little private lab when his phone starts buzzing.

“Hey, kid,” he greets, putting the phone on speaker to keep his hands free while he continues to work.

“Hey. You’re in the city, right?” comes Peter’s slightly terse response.

“Yep. What’s up? Why are you whispering?”

“I’m, uh. I’m hiding. Down in the labs at Oscorp. The ones in the basement—you know, the extra-spooky super-secret ones I told you about.”

Tony pauses, setting down the screwdriver he’s holding. “And _what_ exactly are you hiding from?”

“It’s, uh, it’s a—actually, don’t worry about it. There’s no time to explain,” Peter says quickly, still speaking in a low whisper. “Listen—I need you to go get MJ. She’s been having contractions all day, and she just called me and she said that—she said she thinks—”

“That it’s go time?” Tony asks, already hustling over to the stairs and texting Happy.

“Yes. Yeah. I’m stuck here, I don’t know when I’m gonna wrap this up, and May’s doing a shift in the ER right now and it’s crazy busy because everyone’s drunk, so I need you to—oh, shit, oh, shit, hold on…”

There’s a long stretch of silence, punctuated by the soft, rapid sound of Peter’s breathing and a bizarre scraping noise, like something large and heavy and hard is being dragged across metal.

“Jesus,” Tony says, putting his shoes on. “This is like listening to a horror movie.”

“_Shut up,_” Peter hisses. Then, “Ah, fuck.”

A series of loud bangs and animalistic roaring follows.

“Kid? You still alive?” Tony asks cautiously once the noises have died down again.

“Yeah. Jeez. Sorry about that,” Peter says breathlessly, back to whispering again. “Anyway, I texted you the address to the birthing center—”

“Birthing center?”

“Yeah, she wants to do like an all-natural, low intervention birth with a midwife. I don’t know—I’m just doing whatever she says,” Peter replies, starting to sound a little frazzled and close to tears. “Just please, go get her and take care of her, _please, please, please._”

“I’m on it. Don’t you worry about anything, buddy. You just finish up…whatever it is you got going on over there and come find us,” Tony tells him. “Say hi to my pal Norman while you’re over there fucking up his labs.”

“Okay, okay, thank you—_whoa, shit, please don’t eat me, bro_—bye!”

The call abruptly ends right as the elevator deposits Tony into the garage. Happy is already waiting beside a running car, his expression concerned.

Tony grins at him. “The baby’s coming.”

“The baby’s coming?”

“The baby’s coming,” Tony confirms, practically floating over to the car. “Get in and start driving. We gotta go get Michelle.”

“We gotta get Michelle?” Happy says, looking suddenly sickly under the bright garage lights as he climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Yes—are you gonna repeat everything I say in question form?” Tony says, buckling his seatbelt and rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “The queen’s arrival is imminent, and we are the gilded chariot. Let’s go, go, go. Posthaste. She’s waiting.”

Tony’s demand for urgency is almost immediately foiled by Midtown’s New Year’s Eve traffic, which brings their progress down to an excruciating crawl.

“We’re gonna have to through Harlem and loop around,” Happy says after they’ve made hardly any progress in nearly forty minutes. The man is sweating bullets despite having all the windows rolled down to let in the frigid winter air, clearly feeling the time crunch. “They’ve got everything south of the Park closed off. There’s gonna be total gridlock on the bridges if we try to go that way.”

“No, go south. Why are you trying to go through Harlem? It's gonna take even longer if we have to loop all the way around,” Tony says irritably, typing a reassuring reply to one of Peter’s increasingly frantic text messages. “The bridges will be fine going out. Just—turn around here. Christ. If Michelle winds up having this baby by herself in the bathtub or something, Pete is gonna cut us off forever."

Happy doesn’t argue for once, wheeling the car around with screeching tires and running several red lights in a row, sweat pouring down his temples and his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

It’s another hour before they finally make it to Peter and Michelle’s apartment. Tony raps on the door, and then he and Happy hold their breath until it finally opens, revealing MJ in sweatpants and one of Peter’s t-shirts, standing nearly doubled over and breathing hard.

“What took you so long?” she grits out through clenched teeth.

“I’m so sorry. We got stuck in traffic,” Tony replies. “The baby picked a hell of a night to make her grand entrance.”

“The baby—“ Michelle starts, then stops as another contraction takes over, her face crumpling in pain.

“The baby does not give a _shit_ about traffic,” she finishes once it passes. “The baby is coming _now._”

“Well, let’s go then,” Tony says, taking her by the arm to help her waddle out. “Happy, grab her bag. You have a coat, my love?”

Michelle shakes her head. “No, forget the coat. I don’t care about the coat. We need to go _right now._”

“You two took Lamaze classes or something, right?” Tony asks once they’ve made it back into the car and set off again, while Michelle groans through another contraction.

“Yes, but I don’t remember anything about those stupid classes. Don’t talk to me about those stupid classes.”

“Okay, we won’t talk about those stupid classes. Did your midwife give you any other pain management tips?”

“_Stop talking._ I don’t know,” Michelle pants out. “How much longer till we’re at the birthing center?”

“About an hour, with this traffic,” Happy admits, pouring sweat again.

“I can’t believe this happening,” Michelle groans, rocking back and forth. “I wanted to have this baby surrounded by strong maternal energy, with a midwife and a doula and Enya playing in the background, and instead I’m gonna give birth in a car with two dumb old men while my even dumber husband gets himself killed.”

“You’re not gonna have this baby in the car,” Tony assures her, even as he, too, starts to sweat. He glances at his phone—Peter’s near constant stream of frantic texts abruptly stopped about thirty minutes ago. Tony tries not to think about all the troubling hypothetical reasons for the sudden radio silence as they make their painfully slow progress towards the birthing center, certain that the combined stress will kill him.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Michelle says in a strained voice a short time later, following another long, brutal contraction. “I want drugs. I want _all_ the drugs. Please, can we go to the hospital instead?”

“Absolutely,” Tony tells her, rubbing her hand comfortingly. “You’re the captain of this ship. You want to go to a hospital, we’ll go to a hospital. FRIDAY, get us the fastest route to the nearest hospital with a decent maternity ward, then reroute traffic or do whatever you have to in order to get us there even faster. I literally do not care what it takes, as long as no one dies.”

_“You got it, boss,”_ the AI chirps from the monitor in the dashboard.

They make it the hospital in record time, all things considered—a combination of both FRIDAY and Happy liberally breaking traffic laws and wracking up what is undoubtedly going to be a record-breaking traffic fine once the DOT sorts through all the photos the traffic cameras have snapped of them tearing hell through the city.

“When do I get the drugs?” Michelle asks once they’ve got her checked in and lying down in a bed in a delivery room.

“It’s coming, honey,” one of the nurses replies. “New Year’s Eve is always a busy night for us. Try to breathe through it.”

“You’re doing great,” Tony adds from his place at Michelle’s bedside.

“I want you to get out,” Michelle snaps at him through clenched teeth. 

“Of course. I’ll leave, but honey, you have to let go of my hand first,” Tony says, raising their entwined hands to show her the death-grip she’s got him in. 

She shakes her head, damp curls clinging to her forehead. “I can’t.”

“Alright, well, we’re at a bit of an impasse, then.”

“_Stop talking,_” Michelle pants out, starting to cry. “Why do people do this? Why do they put themselves through this? I’m gonna throw up.”

“It’s all going to be worth it, I promise,” Tony assures her.

“I told you to shut up,” Michelle hisses. “What do you know, huh?”

“I don’t know anything, you’re right. Don’t listen to me.”

“_Stop_ talking. _Where_ are the drugs?” Michelle asks again. “_Where_ is Peter?”

Tony looks across the bed at Happy, who is positively gray in the face by this point. 

Happy shrugs helplessly. “He’s still not answering when I call.”

“Well, why don’t you go call him again. Last time we talked, he was at the labs under the Oscorp building. The ones in the basement. Third level. Maybe call Sam and Clint, and see if they can get a hold of him,” Tony suggests pointedly. “And before you do all that, get the hospital’s director on the horn, and tell them that I will donate the funds to completely remodel the labor and delivery department if they can get an anesthesiologist up here in the next ten minutes.”

“Will do,” Happy says, looking hugely relieved to have an excuse to get out of the room.

Happy succeeds, at least in the latter part of his mission—the anesthesiologist finally arrives shortly after Happy is sent out, and Tony finally stops sweating once the epidural is performed. 

“I can go now, if you want,” he offers, once the drugs have fully worked their magic and the obstetrician has arrived for the grand finale.

“No, you can stay. Everyone in this room has already seen all my business by this point, so it’s whatever. I don’t care anymore. And I don’t wanna be alone,” Michelle says, still holding tight to his hand. The tension has left her face and voice now that the epidural is in place, replaced by a kind of calm, determined focus. 

“I’ll be right here with you, then,” Tony promises. “Cheer you on.”

“No. Don’t talk either. Just shut up, stand there and hold my hand till it's over.”

Tony does shut up, for once. He’s too choked up to say anything else, even if he hadn’t been ordered to silence, lost somewhere between the last time he’d been in this exact same position, holding Pepper’s hand and struck dumb with terrified joy, and the present moment here waiting for the arrival of this new life, the beloved child of his beloved child, and everything that came before and in between, and the future that is unfolding with every beat of his heart.

***

“Do you want to hold her?” Michelle asks sleepily.

It’s well past midnight, creeping into the soft gray hours of the new year, so quiet and unassuming after all the earlier chaos.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Tony says with a smile, barely feeling the aches and pains that ping along his spine and knees as he unfolds himself from the cheap armchair beside her bed.

He gently scoops up the tiny swaddled bundle peacefully slumbering in her arms, cradling the baby close to his chest. His smile widens as he traces the tip of a finger over her little crinkled forehead and down her nose, her eyes briefly opening to peer up at him before she settles into sleep once more.

“Happy New Year, June Bug,” Tony murmurs to her, rubbing his fingers lightly over her head, fluffing up downy-fine curls. “She has Peter's ears, god bless her.”

“That was one of the things Peter was worried about,” Michelle tells him. “He thinks she’ll get teased because he did. So ridiculous. I like them. They’re cute.”

“Eh, a little light-teasing in grade school will be good for her. Toughen her up,” Tony says, gently rocking her. He looks over at Michelle, grinning. “I bet you a hundred bucks Pete starts crying within ten seconds of getting in this room.”

Michelle smiles, shaking her head. “No way I’m accepting that bet. He cries about everything. I’ve seen him cry because of a soap commercial before. He’s so soft. It's probably for the best that he wasn't here. He would have fainted or something.”

“He gets that from May. You ever try to watch a sappy movie with the two of them in the same room? Jesus, constant waterworks. They feed off of each other. It’s like a competition to see who can produce the most tears and snot. I refuse to watch anything but comedies with them anymore.”

Michelle snorts. “I think it’s exacerbated by the years of sleep deprivation. He’s going to be a wreck.”

A nurse pokes her head around the door, as if summoned by all this talk.

“Miss Jones? There’s a gentleman dressed as Spider-Man claiming to be your husband in the hallway,” she announces. “He, uh, looks a little rough.”

“That’s my husband,” Michelle confirms resignedly. “I know it’s crazy, but it’s true.”

“Honestly, honey—not the craziest thing I’ve witnessed in the delivery room,” the nurse assures her vaguely before disappearing.

A moment later, Peter comes staggering into the room with Happy trailing close behind, both of them looking more than a few degrees past ‘rough.’ He stops for a moment to yank his mask off, blinking under the overhead fluorescent lighting, looking a bit dazed until he finally focuses on Michelle.

He limps across the room to her, reaching down to brush her hair back from her face. The tears have already started, like Tony predicted, leaving clear tracks through the blood and grime coating his cheeks.

“You missed all the excitement,” Michelle says finally, when it’s clear that Peter is too overwhelmed to say anything.

“Sorry. I’m so sorry,” Peter says brokenly, stroking her hair again and then leaning down to kiss her. “You look really pretty right now.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t, actually,” Michelle says, offering him a tired smile. “But thanks.”

“No, you do. You really do. I’ve never seen you look so pretty,” Peter insists earnestly, holding her face in his hands and swallowing hard. “Was it—how was it? Was it awful?”

“It was...awesome. And the worst thing ever. And then I got the drugs and it was awesome again,” Michelle tells him, her smile curling wider. 

“Wow. Okay,” Peter says breathlessly. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“It’s okay. Tony stayed with me. I was really motivated to get the baby out just to shut him up.”

“Okay,” Peter says again, still looking overwhelmed. He turns towards Tony and seems to notice the baby in his arms for the first time. 

“Is that...” he asks shakily.

“Your daughter? No, it’s some random baby I snatched from some unsuspecting new mother down the hall,” Tony says. “Yes, it’s your daughter. Here.”

He holds the baby out to Peter, smiling.

Peter takes a step forward, and then hesitates, looking down at himself. “I’m really dirty.”

“That’s okay. Let her get used to it now. They look delicate but they’re actually pretty resilient. Come on, kid. Say hello.”

Peter comes the rest of the way over. He takes the baby, slowly and carefully, like he’s handling glass, holding her away from his body at first like he’s afraid to get her too close, but after a moment he relaxes a bit, bringing her to rest against his chest.

“She’s so…purple,” Peter says finally, his eyes shining as he looks down at the little mewling bundle in his arms. “Did someone—did a doctor look at her? Is that color normal?”

“She’s perfect,” Tony assures him, getting up and putting an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “She’s beautiful. They all look a little like over-baked play-dough bricks for the first couple of weeks. But hey, she came out with the right number of legs and eyes, and no pincers.”

“Oh, good. That’s a relief,” Peter says faintly, wet eyes still glued to his daughter’s face. He takes a shaky breath. “Wow. Oh, wow...I feel like I can’t breathe.”

“I know. I know,” Tony says, getting a little choked up again himself. “I felt that way the first time I saw Morgan, too.”

“No, I really feel like I can’t breathe,” Peter clarifies, sucking in another wet sounding breath and swaying on his feet, looking a little purple around the mouth himself now.

Tony immediately takes the baby back from him. “Okay, sit down. Right here, right now, before you fall. Happy—” he holds the baby out to him. “Take our little lady and go grab some nurses. _Quickly._”

“What’s happening?” Michelle asks, propping herself up on her elbows.

“Nothing, my love,” Tony assures her, while Peter lies on the floor gasping like a fish out of water. “Just a collapsed lung, from the sound of it. He’ll get over it.”

“_Peter!_” Michelle snaps, throwing a pillow at him in a fit of pique.

“Sorry,” Peter chokes out.

Tony gets down on the floor next to him, rubbing his arm. “You’re alright. Don’t talk. Don’t panic—you’ll only make it worse. Help is on the way. Good job waiting to keel over until you got to the hospital, though. Nice timing, kid. Very smart.”

“Thanks, I try,” Peter gasps, his hand searching out Tony’s. 

Tony grabs it, squeezing tight. “Would you _please_ stop talking.”

***

Tony pulls a few more strings. His donation to the hospital tacks a few more zeroes onto the end, and the nurses agree to roll Peter’s bed from the OR recovery room to the maternity wing. They roll him right up beside Michelle’s bed and put the plastic railings down so the two of them can lie side-by-side, exhausted and awestruck and happy in the way of brand new parents. May and Morgan curl up together on the lumpy fold-out couch, and Happy snores in one of the armchairs.

Pepper comes into the room with a bag of bagels in one hand and balancing a beverage carrier full of coffees in the other, ever ready, even in the earliest hours of the morning.

“You know, you’re going to have to give that baby back to Peter and Michelle eventually,” she murmurs to Tony as she sets the bagels and coffee down on the rolling cart.

“I know. I’m just keeping her quiet so they can get a few winks in,” Tony says, gently rocking June in his arms. “They both had a wild night last night. God knows this is the last time they’ll be getting any rest for the next few years.”

“That’s true. Can’t say I miss that,” Pepper says, smiling as she bends to lightly stroke the baby’s soft cheek. “I did miss this, though. So sweet. Hello, little love.”

“I know. Papa’s little princess. We're gonna have a good time together, this little peanut and me,” Tony says, gazing fondly down at June’s scrunched face. He looks up and nods his head towards the rest of the room. “Look at that. We’ll have the whole gang here, old and brand-spanking-new, once Rhodey’s flight gets in this morning. That’s a pretty picture. Can you believe I helped architect all of that?”

“Always so humble,” Pepper says, pressing a kiss into the silver at his temple. “And yes, I can believe it.”

In his arms, baby June stretches her tiny fists and blinks her eyes, her mouth opening to softly mewl. Tony turns his attention back to her, smiling and lightly bouncing her in his arms.

“Junie. Junie Jones, Junie Bug,” he croons to her. “Welcome to the family.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can also find me on [tumblr](https://groo-ock.tumblr.com/)
> 
> GIANT s/o to sagemb for providing both the title and the baby name for this fic, and for bouncing ideas around with me that planted the seeds for this story. Go read all of her brilliant works if you haven't already.


End file.
